


Page 250 and Beyond

by Miiabatg



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: A little about brains, Blood and Gore, Depression sort of, F/M, Gun Violence, My First AO3 Post, some curtain fic, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miiabatg/pseuds/Miiabatg
Summary: Newt and Rosalind have been through a lot together and there was always a chance of death.  She knew what that gunshot meant.  Little does she know, that WICKED decided to be kind for once.DISCLAIMER: All characters except Rosalind, Hawk, Marie are James Dashner's.  Some parts are taken directly from the text, I do not own those either
Relationships: Brenda & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/original female character (maze runner)
Kudos: 3





	1. The Death

**Author's Note:**

> I love to hear feedback and to become better at writing is one of my aspirations, so if you want to input something, feel free :)

When Thomas ran out to Newt, at least I had half a scrap of hope left, but then I heard a deranged "KILL ME" and saw Thomas' finger tense on the trigger. Then, I couldn't look. Couldn't feel. Couldn't think. Could only hear the sharp crack of... of...

My brain shut down and the on switch was malfunctioning, pulsing erratically, sometimes a dark abyss, sometimes blinding white. I only had enough brain power to think "No," and then I was floating through a black void. The van shook with the impact of the door slamming closed. Though I didn't want to hear it, Thomas's voice was a beacon of dark light, detached and forbidding.

"What have I done?"

The words were jumbled, each intonation stumbling over the others. I felt the same thing inside. Flashes of sadness, denial, dread, floated through the dark ocean I was now engulfed in.

Though I couldn't see anything, I sensed Thomas's head turning towards my crumpled figure. He didn't say anything. He couldn't have said anything. In my fog, I felt no gravity, no up, no down, no sideways, only a heavy pressure on my chest and a feeling of weightlessness. I think I was crying.

Soon—or what felt like soon—Thomas's snores filled the abysmal silence. Maybe I slept, too. I'm not sure. I wasn't sure of anything anymore. But the next thing I knew...

***

Newt and I under a blanket in the tiny house after the monster lightning. Him smiling. Looking at me. My arms pulling him closer. "When we have the cure," I whispered, hoarsely, "I'm never looking back."

***

I only half-felt the hiking. Rocks under my worn sneakers, I think. Looming trees, I think. All the while, Thomas's plodding feet and my own kept a steady rhythm, and the sound of our breaths lingered in the air. It felt like a lifetime and a millisecond before Thomas fractured the oppressive silence.

"You remember the plan?" He was hesitant and rightly so. As soon as he said it, I could hear the gunshot as if it were that moment.

I nodded numbly, but something within me clicked into low gear just before we saw the doors, a spark in the black.

As we watched, a black car pulled up and three people in scrubs carried another person in ratty, bloody clothing. From this distance, I couldn't tell any genders, but the glint of yellow upon the person's head indicated that he was probably blonde. That brought a wave of hurt upon the pain already marinating within me. Brushing hair out of my eyes, my fingers came away wet. I didn't remember crying.

We reached the doors to the W.I.C.K.E.D. facility.

Tinted glass parted, locks clicked open, and on the other side was Scrawny Dude, or "Rat Man" to Thomas. I felt a small surge of anger and was surprised to actually feel the tears prick into my eyes. Remembering the day this pitiful excuse for a man telling us about Newt. Now was not the time to dwell, however. Just had to pull myself through the next task.

"Welcome back, Thomas, Rosalind," he greeted us, in his awful voice. "No one believed me, but I've been saying all along that you'd return. I'm glad you made the right choice."

Thomas spoke up. "Let's just get on with it."

I could feel the ferocity in his voice through the fog and there was a distant part of me that felt the same.

"Sounds like an excellent idea." Janson stepped back and bowed slightly. "After you."

The anger trickling into my mind had given me a barely there consciousness, and I was thankful. If we were to survive, I needed all my brain could give me.


	2. The Final Candidate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WICKED is about to take out Thomas's brain for study on the Flare

There are a lot of weird ways to get information, but to extract a real, living, working brain? Were there limits to W.I.C.K.E.D's madness?

After Thomas asked for privacy, alone with me, I could feel tears threatening to spill. I'd lost Newt, I'd lose Thomas, Theresa's fate was unknown – was I on my own now?

"Tommy." Thomas flinched at Newt's nickname. "Did... Did he say anything before... "

Thomas turned his face away before he answered. "He didn't want to hurt you. He said he wanted you to have a life untainted by the Flare. He— he said"—Thomas' voice cracked—"'Please, Tommy, please.'"

Our tears flowed at the same time.

"It's not your fault," I whispered, through my own shaky breath. "But he's too noble. Like you. Don't die, I don't know who I have left."

He didn't say anything, so I reached to him for a hug. Thankfully, he hugged back. We both needed it.

I looked up at his grim face. "Remember Newt when you make your choice."

***

For the procedure, I insisted on being there. Even if it got messy and disgusting. I think Janson preferred it, because I would be in sight the whole time. As the battle part of the plan began, I settled myself in a chair as the doctors drugged Thomas. They were nearly about to start before a woman entered the room unexpectedly. She whispered something to the doctors, and they hurriedly left, as if she were someone important they didn't want to disobey.

She smiled at me before turning to Thomas and gently called his name multiple times. When he finally began to stir, she dropped a folder on the bedside table.

"Thomas, Rosalind, I have faith in you." She exited as abruptly as she'd entered.

I took this as a cue to leap out of the chair and open the folder.

"Who— who was that?" He was still a little out of it.

I shrugged. "Dunno, never seen her before. Look, a map."

The folder contained the aforementioned map of the WICKED complex and black marker tracing several routes through the building. The second and final piece of paper was a letter from the mysterious Chancellor, Ava Paige.

[This is taken directly from the text, I do not own it]

_Dear Thomas and Rosalind,_

_It's my belief that the Trials are over. We have more than enough data to create a blueprint. My associates disagree with me on this matter, but I was able to stop this procedure and save your life. It's now our task to work with the data we already have and build a cure for the Flare. Your participation, and that of the other subjects, is no longer necessary._

_You now have a great task ahead of you. When I became chancellor, I realized the importance of creating a back door of sorts to this building. I placed this back door in an unused maintenance room. I'm asking you to remove yourself, your friends, and the considerable number of Immunes we've gathered. Time is of the essence, as I'm sure you're aware._

_There are three paths marked on the map I've enclosed. The first shows you how to leave this building through a tunnel - once outside, you'll be able to find where the Right Arm has made their own entrance to another building. There, you can join them. The second route will show you how to get to the Immunes. The third shows you how to find the back door. It's a Flat Trans that will transport you to what I hope will be a new life. Take them all and leave._

_Ava Paige, Chancellor_

Thomas was clearly dumbfounded, but I knew we had to move, and quickly. "Come on," I snapped, so as to break him from his daze.

He stuffed the folder into his back pocket and together, we ran out the door.

When the two people ran at us from behind, I thought it was all over, but thankfully they didn't even seem to notice us. Thomas pulled out the map and put a finger on the second path, towards the Immunes. I followed it with my eyes, and they bugged out when I realized.

I pointed at the destination and looked at Thomas in disbelief. He returned the gaze. The Immunes had been put into the Maze.

***

 _Safety in numbers, safety in numbers_ , I thought. It had been Thomas's idea to go for the Right Arm first while I went to the Maze, but something in my gut told me that it was the wrong choice. And I was right. He didn't turn up for ages, and when he did, the whole gang was back. After they explained why they were soaked in sweat and had fresh scratches (got jumped by a couple guards including Rat Man), we all entered the place where the whole shucking thing started.

With a mixture of nostalgia, dread, and sadness, I surveyed the Maze. Memories began to rise like blood out of a fresh wound.

***

Theresa and I waking up simultaneously in the room in the big house and the feeling of a start of a bond between us. Theresa and I becoming friends in the Slammer. Thomas and I sharing interesting points from our day in the creaky house. Newt gazing at me with curiosity and... something else the first time he saw me before I blacked out. Newt and I sharing a blanket while waiting for the griever to arrive. Him whispering to me, "They wouldn't dare take you." Me smiling at the ground before he turned my head towards his.

***

A loud explosion jolted me out of my reverie. When the wall fell, crushing a substantial amount of Immunes, I nearly fainted as blood ran out of the cracked edges. The sound reminded me of the gunshot.

"Are you okay?" asked Theresa, pulling her arm around my shaking shoulders. Maybe I nodded, but I definitely wasn't okay.

Minho attempted to get me to focus. "Get your shucking head together, Rosi, and let's get out of here."

It worked. I ran, ducking, leaping, dodging to get a group of people out of the Maze in time. People were crossing the boards propped on the edge of the hole from the Cliff agonizingly slowly.

"Move it! Move it!" I shouted at the masses, though it didn't seem to be working. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Brenda and Thomas talking before they both turned to a spot on the wall behind me in horror.

Several of the griever pods were opening up.


	3. Off Switch On Switch

Theresa was yelling something that was indistinct to me, but Thomas seemed to understand. “Keep going!” he bellowed to everyone. The urgency in his voice made the people shuffle faster out of panic, to the thankfulness of all the ones directing.

Thomas sprung towards the pods, and the last of my group passed through the hole. I hopped through just as Minho approached.

“Does he need help?” I asked between gasps for breath. “Maybe I should have stayed.”

“You did the best you could, Rosi,” said Minho, shortly, saving his breath. “Let Thomas handle it.”

I nodded, doubt lingered in my mind.

Thankfully, my instincts were wrong, because both Thomas and Theresa reappeared what felt like a few minutes later. Adrenaline was my saving grace; I could never have run with so much stamina without it, especially when we got to the stairs.  
***  
When we reached the Flat Trans, I thought we were on the final stretch, but that Rat Man. We just couldn’t get rid of him.

“Well, what do we have here?” The nerve of him. I turned around from ushering people through to face the ultimate maniac. “Strange place to hide out when everything’s about to come down!”

Indeed, pieces of the ceiling were raining down around us.

“You know what’s here!” Thomas shouted back. “It’s too late – we’re already going!”

But Scrawny Dude wouldn’t give up so easily. Not without pulling out a long knife which was echoed by the other members of his group. We all went for weapons. I grabbed a long strip of a twisted metal pipe which had a lone screw at the end, pointy side out, and the other Trial survivors did the same.

“Your friend was saved by us!” Rat Man yelled. His face was twisted into a crazed sneer. “I have to admit, I thought you’d be more grateful!”

No one knew how to answer that. What would we be grateful for?

After a short pause, Minho shouted, “Just shut your shucking mouth and let’s get this over with!”

Janson’s gaze was frigid as he scanned all the teenagers facing him and said a single word, “Gladly.”

With an even larger burst of adrenaline, the pain we were in and had experienced lashed out to charge the Rat Man’s army. Maybe they were older, but we were rage-filled, and anger is a powerful emotion.  
***  
After that, it was absolute chaos.

An extremely close explosion rocked the room as we charged and I stumbled, along with many others, but regained my balance. Two seconds later, I was locked in combat with a man holding a knife. I don’t know how, but I managed to pierce his neck three times. He went down, with spurts of blood jetting out in time with his pulse, and I grabbed his knife before he hit the floor. A woman ran at me, holding what looked like a scalpel, but I had a long and sharp pole and knocked the small instrument out of her hand before she could do anything. I stepped into close range and hit her over the head with the butt of my “spear.” She crumpled immediately.

By now, most of Janson’s people were either taking their final breaths or already unconscious or even dead, and I had gotten many different scratches that I didn’t remember getting – either from falling debris or from the various people I’d fought. Thomas was standing over Janson’s pale body, and there was no doubt about it. A. D. Janson, or Rat Man, was defeated, gone, finished, but most importantly, dead. His reign of terror was finally over, thanks to a bunch of teenagers.

The sound of plaster and chunks of wall falling nearly masked Minho’s voice yelling, “He’s dead! He’s dead!”

As I watched, Thomas began to sway, but Minho righted him. “We put them out of commission! We need to go!” Minho shouted to the group. And just in time.

Two explosions jolted the room, and the walls collapsed inward. Shards of brick and cement hurtled in every which way as dust clouded the air, making my eyes sting. Everyone dropped their weapons and bolted for the flat-trans. I found myself next to Thomas and Brenda as we all ran for our lives.

A deafening shattering noise drew everyone’s attention, and we all turned. A massive piece of the ceiling detached itself and fell towards Thomas, who couldn’t react. He only watched, mesmerized, as all three tons dropped towards him.

Then, Theresa was a blur as her body shoved him out of the way. Thomas stumbled back just as the huge slab of concrete, brick, and metal pinned Theresa to the ground. All I could hear was a ringing in my ears as Thomas yelled her name, his voice heightened by emotion. Blood streaked her face and hand, which were the only parts of her body I could see. I ran to stand next to Thomas, whose eyes were a wild animal’s. Theresa had been my best friend as well.

“I’m so sorry,” Thomas whispered. Theresa was struggling to cling to consciousness. Her mouth moved. We both leaned closer.

“Me… too,” she whispered. “Tom… I only ever… cared for... ”

Though I had no idea what that even meant, Thomas was absolutely frozen and tears were slowly mixing with the grime on his cheeks. Knowing exactly what he felt, I hauled him up. He didn’t resist.

I took one last glance at Theresa’s broken body and felt a new wave of pain, not unlike what had happened to… him. Minho walked over and helped Thomas to his feet while Brenda pulled him up. With what felt like a finality, one loud boom made nearly everything collapse and our entire group jumped through the icy grey wall just in time.

We didn’t look back.


	4. In Finality

Next thing I knew, I was on the ground wheezing. Thomas looked asthmatic as well, but Minho and Brenda looked next to fine. I didn't know how they did it.

Brenda pressed some buttons on the control panel nearby and it winked out of existence, revealing the cedar planks of the shed wall behind it.

"Everyone, get out," she said, urgently for some reason. Surely everything was over? "I have to do one last thing."

Minho was on his feet and helped Thomas and me stand up on our shaky legs. "My shuck brain can't spend one more second thinking. Just let her do whatever she wants. Come on," he said.

"Good that," replied Thomas while I nodded.

That was when I finally realized the gaping hole within me.

It hurt with the pain of loss.

Theresa, Chuck, Alby, _him_. I realized that only Thomas and I knew just how many deaths there had been to save us all. It threatened to engulf me, like a relentless tide, but I focused on the relief I felt, which was enough to get myself out of the shed.

It was a glory I simply couldn't feel. Lush, green grass and chattering people. A feeling of happiness hovered over the whole scene. Thomas looked a little better, but I felt worse. Why did nature have to taunt me like this?

Brenda pushed Thomas out of the way a little as flames ate up the shed, and the flat-trans along with it. They murmured together and walked a little ways off.

My heart hurt even a little more because that had been Newt and me. An "Us." But that Us was now only me. Minho looked at me worriedly.

"Why the shuck are you looking like that?" he asked. Maybe he had suspicions, but I needed to tell him the truth whether Thomas wanted to or not.

I took a deep breath. "Thomas ran into _him_ when we were getting to the complex. _He_ simply didn't want to live anymore. His last words were 'Please, Tommy, please'." Now my voice cracked. "I didn't see it, but I heard it. The awful crack." I couldn't explain anymore and crumpled down as if my legs simply couldn't support me.

Minho followed suit, looking aghast. "He— he couldn't have been saved."

"I know. But still... " I pulled myself to his shirt and cried a little. Okay, a lot.

Before anyone could say anything else, I heard a voice I thought I'd never hear again.

"What's with this shucking cry-fest?"

We both turned.

There, like a perfect vision, was the boy I'd just been crying over. It wasn't real, it couldn't be! I backed away slowly from my hallucination.

"No, Rosi, I'm real." Like he'd always done in the past, he knew exactly what had been in my mind. He was a bit battered, but he didn't look crazed, and his veins were normal. Parts of his scalp were missing hair, though.

I narrowed my eyes. "I heard it. I saw you after. You couldn't have survived."

"I did." Newt didn't look depressed at all. In fact, it looked like a weight had been lifted off his scrawny shoulders. "A pair of WICKED doctors found me afterwards, when I was unconscious. Tommy blew his gun right in the part of the brain that the Flare had taken root, so they just removed that part and used my... stem cells, I reckon... and put the genes that all you Immunes have into it. In a couple weeks, all my cells will be Immune. Normally, it would take seven years, but they somehow sped up that process while I was in surgery. Said that I deserved it." He chuckled a little. "Aren't you glad to see me, Rosi?"

At first, I remembered Rat Man's strange line, "Your friend was saved by us." And the blonde on the stretcher. But then, I didn't know how to feel. I _wanted_ to trust him, but my old habits said no. "How did you get here?" I blurted out, before I could stop myself.

"Got put in with the Immunes right before you jail-broke us outta there. I was there for the battle, but I left right after Theresa... Theresa—" He decided against saying it. "Wanted to surprise you, so I left early. And now I'm here."

I nudged Minho. "Can you see him too?"

Minho nodded. "Unless we're both in heaven, I'd say this is either Newt for real or fake Newt."

"I promise," pleaded Newt, "I'm real and I'll be here forever." He turned to me. "Remember Rosi? You said, 'I'm never looking back?' And now we have that chance."

I could feel tears running down my cheeks. Now, my heart, brain, and gut all said that this was my Newt.

I ran up and kissed him. "We did it, Newt, we got you a cure. Now we can't look back," echoing what I'd said back in the Maze, where this had all started.

"We did it, Rosi, we did it." His smile was the same as ever, kind of crooked, but still full of humor.

I think Minho left after that, but I can't really remember. All I could feel was gratitude and various other positive emotions that I didn't care to identify.

Suddenly, I remembered the world. "We have to tell Tommy about this!" I said. "He needs to know."

He had the grace to look guilty. "I guess we should tell him."


	5. Never Again

After that, separation was… difficult.

There was only one option for leaders, us. Minho acted like a president, assigning security, livestock searching parties, food gatherers, and more. We were all advisors, but we also had other jobs, like Tommy was head of security, Newt was general supervisor of the livingstead, Brenda as official doctor, I was a second supervisor along with helping to organize the groups that left our forest.

In a meadow beyond, sheep and cows meandered about previously built paddocks. In a forest clearing, a closet stuffed with sanitary supplies and durable tents were integral to the building of our new society. All in all, life was planned and good and we already had expectations for an official presidential election in a few months.

***  
Our tent, ours. It was as if we’d gotten our own house. It was a simple white tent, but we’d splashed it with the dye of turmeric, which we’d found in a greenhouse powered by solar energy, and it was now a cheerful yellow. The inside was padded with a couple blankets and had two pillows, one for him and one for me. It may have been rather basic, but to us, it was the world. It was our home, our privacy.  
***  
Tommy and Brenda had their wedding first. We were all about 21 or so and decided to just go with those ages. Some of the girls and women we’d made friends with (including Sonya) all pitched in to make a dress out of some smooth white cotton we’d found in the many sheds dotted around the woods; by now, we knew them all by heart. For once, we had a small feast, just us – Winston, Frypan, Minho, Newt, myself, and three empty chairs for Chuck, Alby, and Theresa. Though none of us wanted to remember, it was like a second funeral (we had had an official one soon after we’d settled in), but this time, it felt good. Remembering our friends and all those good—scarce, but good—memories that we’d had together.

Then it was our time. It wasn’t a fairytale wedding, of course, but it was perfect for us. The dress was comfortable, the food was great, and the memories we’d made were some of my favorites. The pain of the past faded over time, but we would always remember our friends' legacies and keep them forever. Multiple blank notebooks were filled to the margins with our adventures so we would never forget. Every day there was another breakthrough, another way to make our lives the way they had been, and we were all so grateful for everything. Everything.


	6. Rainbows and Sprinkles

“Marie, stop fidgeting,” I reprimanded. “You don’t want to knock your cake over.”

I looked over at Newt, who was trying to discourage Hawk from touching the matches. “But Dad, I wanna,” he whined.

Bracing myself for a tantrum, I called, “Stop pestering your father and get over here, or I’m going to call Thomas and Brenda to not come.”

And a full tantrum ensued. While he was yelling his lungs out, I made sure that all the decorations were on the cheerful yellow walls (reminiscent of a couple years ago), the window wasn’t smudged, and the table was neat. The last thing to check was the cake.  
It was a white buttercream–frosted masterpiece with a hand piped rainbow and plenty of sprinkles. Though none of the children could read, I’d piped a “Happy Birthday” and a few additional words. Instead of a border of squiggles, I had put names in cursive – Alby, Chuck, Theresa, Stephen, Ava Paige, and everyone else I could possibly think of. It was nice that my daughter’s third birthday would still commemorate what tomorrow would be: five years since the day we escaped. It was quite a coincidence, but Marie had been exactly a week late from her due date and ended up being born on the day before our great liberation. Every year, it dredged up bad memories, but there was nothing we could do about it. The only people living in the original wood that we’d first settled in were Newt and me and Minho. Thomas and Brenda had moved to a field a little ways away, but still within a three minutes walk. Everything was perfect and tranquil. We used the primitive trade and barter system and used “taxes,” or leftover food, to give to the ones that didn’t have it. In fifty years, I had no doubt that we’d settle over an entire state’s worth and be able to have an actual government. Even then, we would not be stopped.

A knock on the door interrupted my inspection of the various names, and in a flash, Hawk’s tears were gone. “Alby! Theresa! Chuck!”

I ruffled my both little blondies’ hair. Maybe this wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was good. And good was enough.  
***  
“I’m never looking back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rosalind: Named after Rosalind Franklin, discoverer of the double helix shape of DNA. Was not given credit until after her death and the credit was instead given to two other male scientists because she was female.
> 
> Hawk: Named after Stephen Hawking, a theoretical physicist known for his work in the study of black holes. He had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis which slowly made his muscles deteriorate until he could no longer walk and had to be confined to a wheelchair. He died a couple (maybe more, maybe I'm just old) years ago. You probably know about him.
> 
> Marie: Named after Marie Curie, an amazing physicist who had Nobel Prizes for her works in radioactivity and radiation in general. She found new treatments for cancer using radiation and worked to use radioactivity in the medical field. Her discoveries were used to create the atomic bomb (correct me if I'm wrong) though she highly discouraged use of her studies for violent ways and was rightly displeased by the invention of the atomic bomb.


End file.
